Though the kind remembrance I have of my Sister is imprinted upon my heart, as with a point of a diamond, & can never be erased while vital spirits remain, yet I know not when I have written to her.—1 The cares & anxieties, the hopes, & the fears, that I should do too much, or not enough for my poor Betsy, I did not wish to 33 trouble you with, or to tell you that my mind has been so agitated least the fatal messenger was on the wing, commisioned to waft her to that world, from whence no traveller returns, that I have scarcely been fit for the duties of life, & though I wish to be resigned to the will of heaven, & to “think like a saint,”2 yet such is the frailty of our nature, that we all feel the imperfections of humanity in a most powerful, & humilating degree— I believe I told you in my last that she was getting much better, & she really was, but has never been two days without a fever, & a bad cough— In March she caught new colds when her Sister was moving, from which I fear she will never find releif. Her disorder seems to baffle all medicine; yet she has many favourable systoms, no fixed pain in her breast or side, but I fear I shall always have cause to lament her not being bled at first, it might have removed that straitness of breath which ever since she has felt; but the Dr thought then it would go off without— he is sorry since he did not— When I look upon her, I feel as if my heart would burst— She is a young, I cannot say a thoughtless Child. She has all that phylanthropy, all that was amiable in her Father. That cheerful happy temper, that unreserved manner, which if regulated by discretion endears & gains the love & confidence of our fellow creatures, she possesses in no small degree, & was every day rendering her more pleasing to her acquaintance, & those inate good qualities, which had been almost destroyed by some wrong management, with gratitude she feels that you reared them up, gave them new strength & vigor, & I am happy to say have ever since been growing into useful life— pardon a mothers partiality— If I should be deprived of her, I must say, it is the heaviest stroke I have ever yet experienced, & should I be called to so severe a trial, may I have that temper which can say “thy will be done”—as I ought— Since you left us very many of our Friends have paid the debt of nature, & are sleeping in their original dust. The much esteemed Mrs Quincy, the amiable Debby Perkinks,3 & Sukey Warner, the Rev. Mr Clark who, himself was a noble comment upon the heavenly doctrines he taught, exemplifying in his life, & conversation the purity, excellence, & benevolence of the Gospel— the aged Mr Carter, full of days satisfied with life, has been gathered to his fathers, & the dear little Mary Smith has been recalled by her heavenly Parent, from pain, & trouble, from the snares & temptations of a vain world, & secured we trust by him, who when upon earth “called little Children, blessed them, & said, of such is the kingdom of heaven.”—4

Sister Cranch says she writes to you, & receives letters from you almost every week—& I presume has been particular in giving an account of events, as they occur— I have a heart that would communicate every thing interesting, or that would afford you pleasure if I had time—but the business of the Family presses so hard upon me, that when I feel determined to write, coats, jakets & Stockings call so loud for my attention, that my purposes are quite altered— So one day has followed on after another without one line—partly hoping they might bring you more welcome news—for when I sat down to write, I have been obliged to lay my pen aside, finding myself unfit for thought— You need not tell me I do wrong, I am very sensible of my error— But overwhelmed as I am at times with Grief, yet do not think me so absorbed in my little Self, as not to feel for my Country, to feel for you, & upon the alter of my heart, have presented many fervent petitions for the safety, peace, & happiness of my much loved Sister; & with united america have implored the richest of heavens blessings to rest upon our cheif magestrate, that he might have wisdom as an Angel of God, perseverance, & magnanimity to guide this backsliding generation, who without investigating truth, or things as they ought will one day “cry hosanna, & another crucify”—5 What must you not all have suffered when those Sons of Belial collected round your house?6 no doubt all the execrable deeds done in Paris rushed into your mind—but thanks to kind heaven, all religion is not yet lost, we have still some love of virtue, some moral sense, & are not yet “all sold to do iniquity”—7

It gives me pleasure to hear from your Children, though I am grieved they have suffered so much in a foreign land— In the Cup of human happiness, a large portion of pain, & trouble is thrown in, no doubt for wise purposes, as a necessary alloy— Cousin Betsy Smith has been with me for a month. She is more cheerful than I feared she would be, but even now is more gloomy than Betsy— She has contracted a certain habit of reserve that injures the feelings of friends. I feel the tenderness of a mother, but never mean to pry into any of her secrets, if secrets there must be they will lie unexplored by me— she forgets the sentiment of Young on friendship, “Reserve will wound it; & distrust destroy. Deliberate on all things with thy friend”—8

She is notwithstanding this singularity a most excellent Girl— My Son did not leave Cambridge in the vacation— heaven bless him & make him useful— You may easily conceive I have a thousand 35 anxieties for him, as the season fast approaches when he must leave Harvard, & try his unfledged wings—

Your Grandsons enjoy good health, & behave exceeding well— they are good tempered fine Children— We should all be almost unhappy without them— We have a dancing School opened by Mr Ducare, who kept here Summer before last, they both attend, & are delighted with the Idea of learning so pleasing an accomplishment—9 Will you pardon me if I cannot tell whether I have written to you since I received a letter from you by Judge Blodget, accompanied by a beautiful Shaul,10 if I have not acknowledged it before, accept now my Sister of the thanks, & love of your affectionate

I received your Letter of the 8th dated Annapolis I congratulate you my dear Sir, that altho the clouds have been darkned round you, and you have been recently call’d to mourn over the Graves of 36 departed Friend’s, it is a consolation that others are rising up to supply their places. The opening which now presents itself to you, is such as may give you Sanguine hopes, and bright prospects, and I sincerely hope they may be succeeded, by solid and durable advantages, and that you may find in mr Johnson and Family, steady, and firm Friend’s mr Johnson has been long in buisness, and has always sustaind a fair and Honorable Character; nor has he, that I ever heard, been engaged in Wild Speculations of any kind

you have been so great a sufferer from your connection with those who have, without being yourself personally engaged, that I most heartily rejoice to see you Reassumeing the Profession to which you were bred, and escapeing from a vortex which has swallowd so many. I hope You will be able to liberate yourself from the weight, which appeard to bow down your Spirits, when you were last in this City1

I know You will not neglect advice given you by one who so sincerely interests herself in Your happiness. let me then intreat you, not to suffer the benevolence of your Heart, to conquer Your judgment, and the duty which you owe to your own increasing family Become not surety for any one. If Providence blesses your Labours, and you have any thing to spair, let the Aged, and the blind, be your first objects, but let the young exert themselves. whilst you are clog’d in any way of responsibility, you are not independant.

With respect to the sale of your Fathers Farm, I thought with you, when he first offerd it, and your uncle declined purchasing it for more than a year, your Father said he was determined to part with it, and that the Taxes and labour devoured the whole of the Profits. he found himself daily less able to labour himself in the season of it. he exhausted his strength and spirits. I conversed with Your Mother, and told her Land could not so easily vanish as money, but she thought the money at interest, would afford them much more clear profit, and that without any trouble; Your uncle paid the full sum which Your Father ask’d 800£ pounds for 42 or 45 acres, I am not sure which, but it was a much larger price than he would have given to any other person. for altho some of the land is good, the Hill part which adjoins to your uncles Farm, is very poor. for two years past it has been broken up, and the first year Eleven acre’s did not produce 30 Bushels of Corn. the 2d it was rather more productive; but did not pay the labour it requires much manure and was so distant from your Fathers home that he could do but little in that way. the manuring a Farm is a very expensive thing. the Canker worm has 37 destroyd the Trees in such a manner, that not more than 4 & 5 Barrels of cider have been made from it, for two years past.

I have written to your Mother to impress upon her mind, the necessity there is, that she should not have any part of the Principle touchd during your Fathers & her Life, that the Children could better contend with difficulties, than those who were advanced in years.

I hope you will enforce this Idea when you write to them. having determined upon the disposal of it, I have not a doubt, that it is gone where you would rather have wisht it to, than into any other Hands. tho I was averse to your uncles purchasing any more land, it is properly to us a sinking fund, and will ever prove so to us—

Present my compliments to mr & mrs Law when you see them. I really contracted a sincere regard for her, whilst she was here

Let me hear from your little boy. the season is favorable for the Small pox.

The publick mind has indeed undergone a Change since you was here, and the people are leading their representitives. I hope such an other set is not to found as most of those who come from Virgina & several of the other states. false wicked and malicious, the Clabourns the Clays the Cloptons, the Findley & Gallitin, with N—s & G—s, have done the Country lasting mischief— their circular Letters which have been sent here, & publishd, are one continued tissue of misrepresentations and falshood’s2

Truth is Great, and I hope will prevail

we are however in a very unpleasent situation in this City. Emissaries are thickly scatterd, and for the vilest purposes. we have an influx of Foreigners, from all Nations, and very feeble Authority to restrain them;—or to punish them, in proportion to their crimes for as Peter say’s poor Pensilvana keeps no Gallows, and the utmost difficulty is now experienced to get through the Alien Bill in Congress— it will be curtaild, & confined, in such a manner, as to render it a mere nulity. the City has been threatned with fire; and with Massacre. the Inhabitants are constantly upon the allarm & watch. we had a fire last night about Eleven oclock which broke out in a stable, and which is suspected to have been done with design. it consumed a Barn & House and caught several others. during the fire the troop of light Horse patrold the streets. nothing but the Awe of the Military, will keep these wretches in order.3

I inclose you the last dispatches from our Envoys.4 alass! alass! why are they not at Home? the decree of the directory respecting 38 Nutrals ought to have been there signal for quitting the Republick in 48 hours— they know not the feeling of their Countrymen— they have tyed their Hands. they prevent such measures as ought to be taken for the safety and security of the Country, and I fear we shall not see them at all

adieu my dear sir. present me kindly to Mrs Cranch. tell her to keep up her spirits, and to aid in supporting yours. better days await you. I wrote to mrs Johnson last week, and inclosed some Letters. if she has not returnd them, you have my permission to read them— there was a publick Letter from Mr A. received by the Secretary of state as late as 24 Feb’ry but no private ones—5

Most affectionately / Yours—